‘I tell you, them glamour boys get all the blooming luck,’ the grumbling soldier said again. Kate glanced up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but her words were drowned by a terrific explosion and all heads turned to see the very ship they were making for receive a direct hit. Flames engulfed the bow and black smoke drifted skywards.
‘Oh no!’ Kate muttered, while the soldiers stared at the rescue ship in grim silence.
Wordlessly, Danny changed course slightly and headed for a smaller boat some distance further out to sea, skirting round the stricken vessel which was now burning fiercely. They could see men jumping back into the sea from which they had just been rescued, but with the present load they carried, Danny could do nothing to help. He steered away, thinking that if they went closer, panic-stricken men would grab their little fishing boat and capsize it.
‘We’ll see if we can pick some up when we’ve dropped you lot off,’ Danny promised, but no one on board answered him. They just continued to stare at their comrades struggling in the water. As they watched, a figure, his clothes alight, jumped from the vessel into the water. Even above the turmoil they could hear his screams.
‘Looks like every man for himself now,’ muttered the friendly soldier.
They neared the smaller ship but already they could see that the decks were lined with soldiers.
A ship’s officer hung over the side. He cupped his hands and shouted down to Danny as the small boat bobbed against the side, ‘We can only take ten maximum.’
In the small boat, heads turned, counting their number. There were eleven soldiers and the airman besides Danny and Kate. The soldiers began to haul themselves up the nets hanging over the side of the ship.
‘What about him?’ Kate indicated the airman. ‘He ought to be taken on board first. He needs medical attention urgently.’
The soldier who had been so scathing about the RAF glanced down as he began to climb. ‘Shouldn’t bother, miss, he’s a gonner anyway.’ And with that parting shot, he hauled himself up to safety.
Ten were on board, leaving the airman and the soldier who had been friendly. ‘Reckon I’ll stay and give you a hand, Miss, if we’re to save this lad’s life, eh?’
Kate gazed into his craggy face. He was older than the rest – a regular soldier, she thought, rather that a conscript.
‘Reckon it’s time we introduced ourselves.’ He held out a large hand that was blue with cold. ‘Gordon Stratford, pleased to meet you, Miss, though I could have wished for better circumstances.’
Kate grinned at him and put her own cold hand briefly into his. ‘Kate Hilton, and he’s Danny Eland.’ She nodded towards Danny, who was manoeuvring the boat around to head back towards the soldiers from the sinking ship.
‘We ought to get him roused if we can,’ Gordon said. ‘He’ll slip away if we don’t keep him awake.’
Together they struggled with the dead weight of the unconscious airman, trying to get him into a sitting position in the prow of the boat.
The airman’s face was gaunt and pale, his eyes closed.
‘I’ve got some rum stowed in that locker,’ Kate said. ‘Let’s try that.’
She held the neck of the bottle to the airman’s blue lips and gently tried to ease some of the reviving liquid into his mouth.
‘He’s a squadron leader,’ Gordon said, suddenly. ‘Wonder where the rest of his chaps are?’
‘Now don’t you start, Gordon!’ Kate said, but she was smiling, teasing the friendly man who had so generously given up his own chance of immediate rescue to stay to help her and Danny.
Gordon’s teeth shone white out of his oil-streaked face. ‘No – I’m not like our friend back there.’ He jerked his head back towards the ship they had just left. ‘The RAF is here all right – I know that – but they’ve a hell of an area to cover and they won’t have a lot of flying time from a fuel point of view when they do get here.’
‘Talking about fuel . . .’ Kate looked around at the cans Danny had brought. There was only one remaining tin. She glanced at Gordon. ‘You go aboard with him the next trip back to a ship,’ she said firmly, nodding towards the airman.
Gordon gave her a mock salute. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’
While Danny steered the boat back towards the ship that had been hit, Kate chafed the airman’s hands, though her own were now as cold as his. Then she rubbed his back again. ‘Come on, feller, do wake up,’ she murmured as his head lolled against her breast. She wrapped her arms around him again, rocking him as she might a child.
Above the airman’s unconscious form, she met Danny’s glance as he sat with his hand on the tiller. There was a fleeting look of pain in his eyes. Intuitively, she knew that he had felt a sudden stab of jealousy seeing her with her arms around another man. It was the first time, but it might not be the last, and she could see his inner struggle to come to terms with it. She smiled at Danny, understanding and commiserating. For a brief moment amidst all the chaos, they gazed at each other, and then he gave her a small smile and lifted his shoulders fractionally in a tiny shrug of helpless, reluctant acceptance. Even now, she thought, after all this time, for Danny as well as for her, the pain was never very far away.
‘What’s all that smoke?’ she asked Gordon, watching the huge pall of black smoke ahead of them on the shore billowing and spreading, clouding the coastline for miles until it seemed like dusk, in stark contrast to the bright blue sky over the sea behind them.
‘Oil storage tanks. They’ve been bombed. And the whole town’s on fire.’
From out of the smoke hurtled three enemy planes, diving down towards the boats, the rattle of their machine-guns audible even above the engines. Ships’ guns were turned on them and those soldiers on the decks who still had rifles pointed them skywards. Even though it was perhaps a futile gesture, nevertheless it was a display of defiance.
Defenceless, Danny, Kate and Gordon watched as the planes swooped directly towards them. Instinctively, Kate’s arms tightened around the airman.
It was then that she felt him move. He gave a spluttering cough, then a groan, and opened his eyes.
The planes shot past them, spattering bullets into the water only two feet from the boat, and Kate felt the cold splash of sea water on her cheek. Then they banked away and were gone.
Gordon winked at Kate and said, ‘Well now, young feller, back in the land of the living.’
They propped him upright and from the bag, Kate brought out more bread and cheese. ‘See if you can get him to eat something – and have some yourself. We’re getting close to the men in the water now. I’d better take the tiller for Danny.’
As she turned away to move along the boat, Gordon, his mouth full, said, ‘By, this cheese is good. Long time since I tasted proper cheese. You do live on a farm, then? Where?’
‘Fleethaven Point. It’s on the Lincolnshire coast, near the Wash.’
‘Good Lord! You come all that way down here?’
‘Yes, Danny’s boat was commandeered, so he decided to bring it himself. I came too – so here we are.’
‘And thank the good Lord for you, lass. For you both – you and your man.’
Yes, she thought wryly, Danny was her man. Still, despite the knowledge of their true relationship, deep in a corner of her heart, locked away, he was still ‘her man’.
Nineteen
The little fishing boat all the way from the Wash went back towards the sinking ship, now listing heavily to port and obviously beyond salvage. The men in the water were exhausted. After days and nights on the exposed beaches, under fire from the enemy, then standing in human piers stretching into the cold water of the Channel, they had dared to believe themselves rescued. To be thrown back into the water had sapped the strength and resolve of even these brave men.
Still the enemy aircraft swooped and dived above them. Every three-quarters of an hour or so they were back, splattering bullets across the water and dive-bombing the ships laden with soldiers.
While the men str
uggled to keep afloat in the water, Danny and Kate went back and forth between the sinking vessel and another rescue ship farther out to sea; so many times that Kate lost count. On the first trip out to the bigger ship, Danny sided with Kate and insisted that Gordon take the young airman aboard and stay with him.
‘Ya’ve done your bit, mate,’ Danny said, putting his hand on the older man’s arm.
‘I don’t like leaving you and the young lass to cope.’
‘Just stay with him,’ Kate said, nodding down at the airman, ‘Get him some proper help as soon as you can.’
‘I’ll do that, Miss, I promise. But you take care, mind.’ He shook Danny’s hand warmly and, without a trace of embarrassment, kissed Kate’s cold cheek. ‘I hope we meet again . . .’
They watched Gordon climb a swaying rope ladder, while alongside him, the RAF officer was hoisted aboard on a swinging stretcher. When he was half-way up, they saw Gordon swing round and look out across the water towards the soldiers on the beach running towards the dunes as yet again, enemy aircraft swooped low overhead. For a moment Gordon released one hand-hold, leaned back and looked up at the planes. He shook his fist at them. ‘We’ll be back, you buggers!’ he shouted. ‘We’ll be back.’ Then he turned and continued his climb.
Danny laughed. ‘He’s a character, in’t he?’
‘He’s a great chap to have around in a crisis,’ Kate murmured, half sorry to see Gordon leave them. ‘Danny, do you reckon the airman’ll make it?’
‘I dunno, Kate. He looks bad to me. Come on, let’s not stay here – we’re sitting ducks!’
Each time they returned to the same ship, Gordon was there, hanging over the ship’s rail.
‘Your young airman’s below,’ he shouted down. ‘We’re in luck – this is a hospital ship. There’s a doc on board – and even nurses! He’s in good hands now.’
Kate smiled up at him and waved.
Then later, Gordon was still there. ‘Come on, mate, come aboard yourselves now. The Captain says we can’t take any more and we ought to be on our way before we get hit.’
Danny shook his head. ‘There’s still men on the beach.’
Gordon shaded his eyes. ‘Not so many now – and there’s still boats picking them up. Come on board, man. That lass is exhausted.’
Kate felt Danny’s eyes on her. ‘You go, Kate. I’ll manage . . .’
‘No!’ she said with far more strength than she felt. She was bone-weary, wet, cold and hungry. Her mind kept wandering so that she imagined herself fourteen again and walking across the Wolds in the pouring rain to find her grandfather. Only will-power was keeping her going – as it had then – only sheer determination made her drag her frozen mind back to the present.
But the decision was taken from them, for as Danny revved the engine to head back once more towards the beach, it spluttered twice and died.
‘We’re out of fuel’ he said flatly, as their boat bobbed silently up and down on the waves.
‘We’ll – get the oars out, then,’ Kate said and dragged herself to where they were stowed at the side of the boat.
They were just drifting away from the side of the larger boat, struggling to get the oars in position and aware that Gordon was still watching them anxiously from the deck, when they heard the sound of an enemy plane screaming towards them, a dive-bomber aiming for the laden ship.
‘Row, Kate, for God’s sake – row!’
Frantically, they pulled on the oars, trying to put distance between themselves and the target. Kate panted and strained at the oars, sobbing with fear and frustration. After all their efforts, all the men they had saved – especially Gordon and the airman – were going to be bombed. Killed or, at best, thrown back into the water.
The Stuka screamed towards them in a steep dive, its black crosses on the top of each wing clearly visible.
One bomb left the aircraft, hurtling down towards them. Then from under the wings, four smaller bombs were released. One landed on the far side of the ship, sending up a plume of water. Another fell between the hospital ship and the little boat trying desperately to escape. It hit the water and exploded, causing such an eruption that the larger ship rocked, sending men slithering about the deck. Only Gordon hung on to the deck rail, fearful for the fate of the little boat.
The vibration thudded through Kate and the surge of water bore their fishing boat aloft, held it suspended for a timeless moment and then plunged it downwards, capsizing it and throwing both Danny and Kate into the sea.
The last thing she remembered hearing was Danny’s desperate cry of ‘Kate! Kate!’
Someone was holding her head above the water. Someone was shouting at her but she could not hear properly for the rushing sound in her ears. Then some kind of strap was being put around her under her armpits and she felt herself being hoisted clear of the water, her legs dangling limply. Then willing hands were reaching out for her, pulling her on to the comparative safety of the deck of the ship. Blankets were wrapped around her and she was being carried.
‘Danny?’ she croaked. ‘Where’s Danny?’
‘What’s she say?’ A voice spoke above her.
‘Never mind,’ said another. ‘Get her below – to the doc.’
She was carried below and found herself being placed, with surprising gentleness, on a narrow bed. But no sooner did they set her down than Kate began to struggle. ‘No, no. Danny – I must find Danny. He’s in the sea. He can’t swim.’
‘Now, now, young lady.’ A man was bending over her. ‘I’m a doctor. You just lie still.’
‘But Danny – is he safe? Please, I must . . .’
The doctor jerked his head at one of the soldiers who had carried her down, ‘See what you can find out. She’s obviously very distressed.’
The soldier gave Kate’s arm a swift pat. ‘Don’t worry, Miss. One of our lot dived in when your boat capsized. He got to you first, but he’s still looking for – who is it? Danny?’
Weakly, Kate nodded. She sank back against the pillow as exhaustion claimed her.
‘That’s better. Leave it to the lads. They’ll find him.’
Kate closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer. ‘Oh please, dear Lord, please let them find him!’
Later, warm and dry and placed in a bed alongside other casualties aboard the hospital ship, Kate still fretted for news of Danny. The ship was so crowded that the beds in the ward had been pushed close together and men lay on the floor on stretchers or just on blankets.
‘It’s bloody murder up top,’ one of the stretcher bearers said, as they struggled to find a clear space to put down their burden. ‘The deck’s that crammed, fellers are lying on top of each other.’
It wasn’t much better down here, Kate thought ruefully, glancing round. There was scarcely a clear foot of floor space between the soldiers. The nursing sisters of the Queen Alexandra’s Nursing Service had to step carefully over patients to tend the wounded. The ward was filled with the sounds of groaning and coughing, and now and then a scream of agony.
Kate raised herself a little. ‘Please – do you know if the young man from the little fishing boat has been rescued?’
The stretcher-bearer shrugged his shoulders. ‘Sorry, Miss . . .’ He turned away and bent over a soldier whose whole face seemed to be a mass of congealed blood, a filthy bandage round his head.
Kate bit her lip. No one seemed to know down here what had happened to Danny and no one had time to go and find out for her.
She became aware that someone in the next bed was watching her. Kate turned her head to find herself looking into the bluest eyes she had ever seen in a man. His fair hair was short and curly, brushed straight back from his broad forehead. His face was lightly tanned yet there were rings of exhaustion around his eyes. His left arm was freshly bandaged, but instead of a proper white sling, his arm was still supported by her scarf.
It was the airman she had cradled in her arms and willed to live.
He was older than she had thought him t
o be, but he had looked young and vulnerable lying unconscious in the bottom of the fishing boat. Yet, even then, Gordon had said the insignia on his jacket was quite a high rank. What was it he had said? Squadron Leader?
She smiled weakly at him. At least now, clean and dry, he looked more like a member of – what was it the disgruntled soldier had called the RAF? Oh yes, that was it – the glamour boys.
Kate felt her eyelids close, but she opened them again as he spoke. His voice was deep, yet a little croaky from his recent ordeal.
‘I want to . . .’ he began, but Kate said, ‘Don’t, please don’t. I just want to know what’s happened to Danny . . .’ Her voice broke and she turned her head away towards the wall so that he should not see her tears. She knew he was going to start thanking her, maybe telling her how brave she had been. She didn’t want that, because she didn’t feel she had been particularly courageous. She had only come to be with Danny. How could she explain to the airman that for some reason she had not even felt afraid, at least, not for her own safety. The only fear she felt was to think that all this carnage could happen in England; that had made her angry.
Now, however, her terror was very real. She was desperately frightened for Danny.
Hearing the airman move, she looked back at him again. He was struggling to rise from the bed. ‘I’ll go – and see – what I can find out.’
She put out her hand to stop him. ‘No, no, you mustn’t. You’ll . . .’
‘And just what do you think you’re up to, young feller?’ Gordon’s cheerful face appeared round the door. Carefully he stepped between the soldiers on the floor and came towards them. He was soaking wet, his hair plastered down, and rivulets of water were running down his face. The airman sank back on to the bed as Gordon grinned broadly at Kate and said, ‘He’s okay – we’ve got him. He’s taken in a lot of water. They’re pumping him out now. But he’ll be all right.’
The Fleethaven Trilogy Page 57
